


That's not my name

by Faraona



Category: Benvinguts a la família | Welcome to the Family (TV 2018)
Genre: 4 Things, Canon Compliant, F/F, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Femslash, Funeral, Jealousy, One Shot, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairings, Stress Baking, Sweet, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faraona/pseuds/Faraona
Summary: 4 times Àngela rejects the nickname Victòria has given her, and one time she does not.
Relationships: Àngela Navarro/Victòria Argente





	That's not my name

**Author's Note:**

> OMG this has been sitting unfinished on my hard drive for months, then tonight I had quite a bit of wine, Victòria-style, and whoops, finished. Hot off the press and no beta as always, so if you find mistakes, I'd love to correct them, just hit me up!  
> Now have fun with these two cuties falling in love <3

Angela was taken aback. Who was this shrill, loudly dressed woman, inviting her into her childhood home? She hardly got to say a word while the woman, dressed expensively, but failing to look as fancy and young as she probably intended, babbled on about her strawberry juice and fashion magazines. After she finally found out that she was Victòria, her father’s new wife, her stepmom, so to speak, and that her mom was put away in a nursing home, she was still blinking in disbelief. Her father was a stuck-up, emotionally stunted miser – how had he ended up with this silly gold-digger, who had the cheek to demand her to apologize, when it was her father who’d forced her out of the house, making her choose between him and her unborn child?

She explained to Victòria how it was Eduardo who owed her an apology. A little discussion followed, and soon she was listening to Victòria describe the loveless, lonely routine of her marriage. To her surprise, Àngela felt a surge of compassion. She knew that feeling very well, after all she’d lived with her father for 18 years. Poor Victòria was standing by the window, looking down.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Otherwise, men like him will trample over you forever.”

“I don’t know if I should listen to you, I mean look how you ended up, Àngels, no offense.”

“It’s Àngela. And I think I’ll go check on my kids.”

**

There was one good thing about all of this, Àngela thought, drying her hands on the pink flowery apron she was wearing because it was the only one she’d found. Her family –three kids and a brother in law- were still sleeping in her father’s office. Since he’d dropped dead two days ago, they’d been stuck here. Angela had been fired from her crappy job at the gas station, and even though this only aggravated the monetary problems of the dispossessed descendants, she tried to make the best of it, as always. Unable to sleep anyway, since her body was still used to working the night shift, and her mind flowing over with worries, she’d gotten up before dawn and did what she liked best to clear her head - bake. She’d put up a scrumptious breakfast, bigger even than what she’d managed for Sara’s last birthday.

The table by the big window was all set, with coffee, juice, soy milk, cereals, toasts with tomato and garlic and olive oil, muffins, soft bread with jam and chocolate spread and a pot of hot chocolate. Àngela had to make a little space for the last plate – a big pile of homemade churros, and by now, hardly anything of the white, flower-embroidered mantle was visible anymore. Okay, maybe it had gotten a bit out of hand, but once she’d started, there’d been no stopping her. As she’d measured ingredients, poured and mixed and greased the pan, her mind had finally gotten some rest. She’d hummed along with the radio, and forgotten about everything else for a while.

Now, the morning sun was lighting up the room, the garden was bright and green and a little bit of blue sky was visible through the glass façade of the kitchen-living room. Inside the house, she could hear noises and movements, and she smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she felt like the mom she’d dreamed of being when she was younger – the big caretaker, homemaker, her kids’ best friend. Since Manu had run off ten years ago, she’d had to sacrifice a big part of this role in order to get by, accepting all sorts of jobs just to make it to the end of the month, only to be evicted due to his debts. Fantastic.

Àngela sighed, and shook her head, her long brown hair tickling the skin on her neck and shoulder. She had no idea how they would get through this, but she was determined to see that they would.  
Nando was the first to join her. While she finished the clean-up of the kitchen workspace, he had a big cup of coffee and told her about a lawyer he’d heard about, who sounded nothing like ‘the best lawyer’, but more like a conman.

“If we want to change the will, that’s exactly the kind of guy we need.”

“I guess.”

“And the first visit is free of charge. Shall we go today, before the show?”

Àngela nodded, and in direction of the rest of the house, called out, “Kids! Breakfast!”

After she managed to calm Fran about the job situation and convince Sara that despite being nervous about today’s talent show at school she had to eat something, they finally sat down and for the duration of the meal everything seemed almost normal. David returned from his run and joined them, digging in to the unusual treats. The only ones who were missing, even though Àngela wasn’t sure if she considered them part of the family, were Victòria and Àlex. The latter was a teenager out of school, so she didn’t expect her to get up much before noon, and her mother, well… she was a case of her own.  
All too soon, the boys were out by the swimming pool, enjoying the warm sunrays and the luxuries of the mansion, and Sara had disappeared who knew where. Àngela was picking up after them, putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher – a dishwasher! – and wondering how she would store the leftovers, when she heard steps. She turned her head and there was Victòria, a flash of neon pink, totally in tune with her environment, as always. Ángela couldn’t help but stare at the loud sports outfit – a tight pink shirt and a grey plush vest, black skirt and leggings, grey leg warmers.

“My goodness, are we celebrating something? Is it someone’s birthday?” Victòria asked, admiring in the rich offer on the table.

“No, nothing particular,” Àngela answered, wondering why she didn’t take off the huge necklace with the silver heart if she was going to work out.

“Well, don’t you look cute in my apron! Like a model housewife!” Victòria sat down and reached for a churro. “I haven’t had such a breakfast in ages. It doesn’t really help with preserving my looks, you know…” She took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of the fried dough.

Àngela took off the silly apron and placed it on the bench beside her, as she took a seat across the table from… well, what exactly? Her stepmother? Her partner in crime? Her slightly derailed roommate with a drinking problem?

“Enjoy,” she said, pouring herself a glass of juice.

“How did you manage to whip up all of this? Maybe I should hire you once we’re through.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed, playing mindlessly with the glass in her hand. 

Victòria reached for a muffin, and carefully peeled off the paper, trying not to get her nails dirty.

“I’m having some trouble, too. I’m just not used to sleeping alone. It’s a miracle I can have breakfast at all, my stomach was so upset, I thought I could never eat again.

“I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Àngela said politely, internally rolling her eyes at the dramatic phrasing. “Nando and I will see a lawyer later, so hopefully all this will be over soon.”

“These are really good! I’ve never been any good at baking, I had to commission all of Àlex’ birthday cakes at the French patisserie. She loved them, but boy, did they charge for the personalization…”

Àngela had a sip of juice, not really feeling empathy at that. Victòria ate some more churros, dipping them generously in the cooled-down chocolate. On the other side of the window, the birds were chirping, getting ready to migrate south as summer was turning into autumn.

“Speaking of Nando,” Victòria said, “What’s the deal with you two?”

Àngela frowned. “There is no deal with us. He’s my ex-husband’s brother.”

“Who’s been with you for what, ten years? You can’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you, ever.”

“He’s like a second dad to the kids, and a good friend to me, that’s all.”

Victòria tilted her head skeptically, but accepted the reply. “I’m going to go for a little run. Care to join me?”

Àngela hadn’t done much running recently, except to catch the subway to work, not to mention her stomach was currently full of heavy baked goods and chocolate. She felt more like taking a nap than going outside.

“I think I’ll pass, sorry.”

Victòria shrugged, but her expression gave away her disappointment. She dabbed her bright red lips with a napkin, then carefully placed it beside her plate.

“Alright then, I better get going. I’ll see you later, Àngels.”

“Àngela,” she corrected her, but Victòria had already stopped listening and was on her way out.

***

“Can’t stand her. I’d say she’s a bit thick, wouldn’t you? She’s simple minded, the poor thing. We want to exclude her from the inheritance,” Àngela heard her own voice out of the lawyer’s spy-pen. Nando had been right about him, he was a conman, and not a bad one. They hadn’t hired him and now he was trying to pitch them against each other. Victòria was sobbing beside the slimy guy in his ill-fitted suit, black streams flowing down her chubby cheeks and sincere pain speaking from her face. Àngela stood there with her arms crossed, shaking her head incredulously at the turn this was taking.

“Nothing personal,” he said, “but you’re not my clients.”

“You’re a back-stabbing rat,” Àngela hissed, hands on her hips. That conversation had not been for Victòria’s ears. She couldn’t deny part of her had indeed had the impression that she was a bit naïve, and easily persuaded, which, unfortunately, she was proving right now, believing a total stranger who’d just stumbled through the door. He was saying something, but Àngela kept looking at Victòria, in a soft pink dress, crushing her hankerchief in anger, as she took a step towards her.

“So you wanted to con me, sweetie? Well, let me tell you something, cutie, I may not be very bright, but I’m not that thick either, alright? I know saying I’m not bright makes me sound think, but that’s not – you know what I mean!”

“As your lawyer, I don’t recommend you talk to that woman.”

“You’re not my lawyer!” Victòria yelled, and Àngela knew it wasn’t all lost.

“Get the hell out!” she demanded of the lawyer, and grabbed the crying woman by her left arm, pulling her away from him.

“Victòria. Everything we said was a lie. A plan.” Àngela leaned in close, holding on gently to her arm.

Victòria calmed a little, sniffling. “Was it really?”

“Of course it was! Did you think we would tell him the truth? We had to make something up quickly and that was the first thing that came to mind.”

They were standing face to face now, Àngela maintaining eye contact and still holding her hand.

“So you don’t think I’m dumb?”

Àngela wasn’t sure how she could phrase her reply, but the hesitation betrayed her, and Victòria started crying again.

“You do think so!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in a gesture of desperation.

“Yes. No, no, no! Look, I don’t know!” Àngela was yelling, too. “We hardly know each other. It was the first thing to cross our minds.”

“The first thing to cross your mind?”

Àngela nodded.

“So you did think of it, you do think so!”

Àngela threw her head back, hiding her face in her hands. This woman was going to drive her crazy.

“No, no, no…” she pleaded, taking Victòria’s forearms in her hands , “It was just a plan, nothing else.”

“Oh, was it? A plan for what?” the lawyer interrupted.

“Get out! Now!” Àngela cried out, showing him the door. Softly, she addressed the crying woman again. “Victòria, you must trust me. Besides, everything is sorted out. I can’t explain it now, I’ll just say that we won’t need to worry about money for a long time.”

Victòria blinked at her. “Really?”

“Yes,” Àngela replied, nodding. “Yes.” With relief, she observed how Victòria relaxed with that knowledge, and she felt her own exaltation subside in turn. One disaster averted, one to go.

“Mom, we need to go!” Fran was standing in the door.

“I’ll be right there.”

“What is this, are you leaving me out again?”

“Sara has a concert at school today.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Look, I will give you the most important mission of all,” Àngela said, raising a finger at her in emphasis. “While we are away, you take the body out of the freezer and start defrosting it.”

Victòria looked at her with big, shiny eyes. “For real? You’ll let me do that?”

Àngela nodded, smiling at her openly. “Yes. Yes. You’re a part of this, of our family. We’re all in this together, alright?”

Suddenly, Victòria wrapped her in her arms. “Thank you, Àngels.”

“Àngela,” she replied, softly, as she withdrew from the hug. “See you tonight.”

“Have fun at the concert!”

**

“You did a great job today, Victòria,” said Àngela, putting the bottle of wine back on the table. The adults of the household were sitting on the sofa, Àngela and Victòria facing each other, Nando to their side. The kids were in bed or busy elsewhere, and the three of them were finishing off the day with a round of drinks. Àngela and Victòria were sharing a bottle of red port wine, and Nando had some beer.

“Really, the way you lead on that Dorado guy…” she elaborated. “You have him eating out of your hand.”

Victòria smiled, melting away at the praise. “Well, I told you to confide in my acting skills.”

Nando shrugged. “He was an easy target. With a guy like that, show some cleavage and play dumb, mission accomplished.”

“Excuse me, handsome, what are you trying to say?”

Àngela shot him a warning glare. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? We got both paintings back. Now we just have to sell the original, and we’ll all be fine.”

“Sure, nothing easier than selling a stolen original Goya. Do you have any connections on the black market that we don’t know about?”

“We’ll figure it out, Nando, alright? Gee, what is up with you tonight?”

He shrugged, getting up. “I think I’m going to have a smoke and then head to bed. You ladies will be just fine on your own, I guess.”

“Good night to you too,” said Victòria, as he left without looking back, then looked over at Àngela, questioningly. “Whatever   
did he mean by that?”

“Don’t even pay attention to him, he gets like that sometimes,” Àngela replied, and raised the glass to her lips to take a big sip of the fine wine.

Victòria did the same, but after she put her glass down, she tilted her head at the brunette.

“Pardon me, Àngels, I know I’ve asked you about this before, but…”

“Àngela,” she intervened, almost automatically.

“You said he’s just a friend to you, but did you ever think he might want to be more than that?”

“What?!”

“Oh, sweetie, I think he might have feelings for you.”

“Don’t be silly, Victòria. He’s been living with us for ten years, don’t you think I would know?”

“I’ve known you cuties for less than a week, and I can tell you Eduardo hasn’t looked at me like Nando looks at you in a   
long, long time. And he’s always by your side, he’d do absolutely anything for you. Heck, he drank bleach the other day to help you cover up your father’s death!”

Àngela swallowed. Could it be? Nando, her brother in law, in love with her? She shook her head.

“You’ve only known me for four days and you are by my side, too, right? Here we are breaking into offices, dealing with a dead body, fooling the police and scamming a lawyer, selling stolen art…”

As she looked up, she met Victòria’s bright, open glance, and she felt a twist in her stomach. Although maybe that wasn’t   
the right word. Maybe it was more like a bunch of very clumsy butterflies, waking up from a long hibernation. Suddenly she was hit by all the tenderness she felt towards that strange woman, who cultivated this bright and cheerful façade, behind which a vulnerable soul longed for love and understanding, and she felt light-headed as the pieces started to come together. Victòria’s eyes were fixed on her, warm and open and brown like rich earth, her expression was soft and – hopeful? No way. No. She hadn’t had thoughts like that for twenty years. Àngela averted her gaze and took another sip of wine, trying to re-direct her mind into any direction but this.

“I guess these are special circumstances,” she said, finally.

Victòria sighed softly, emptying her glass in one go. The expectant look had disappeared from her face, but the faint glow on her cheeks remained, although that might’ve been just the wine.

“You have a talent for understating things, you know,” Victòria said, as she poured herself another one. “You may have given up this house and this life back in the day, but I have gotten very used to it. I have nowhere else to go.”

“We will find a way,” Àngela tried to calm her, but the tears kept rising.

“The worst part is sometimes I am glad he died,” Victòria said in a low voice. “It feels like a whole new door opened up. I had a good life thanks to him, I did, I shouldn’t complain. It started out like a dream, me and the famous writer, this mansion, I mean who wouldn’t take it? But now, when I can’t sleep, I think about your words, and how he really did treat me badly recently, and I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad you guys are all here. I can’t remember the last time this house was so full of life. I am so happy I got to meet you, reina.”

Àngela, moved by these words against her will, nodded. “We’ll make it through together. And if for any reason you have nowhere to go, you come to us, alright? It won’t be as spacious, but there will always be room for you.”

Victòria wiped away her tears, smiling. “Thank you, Àngels.”

“Àngela,” she corrected, almost inaudibly.

**  
A few days had passed since that night, and as much as Àngela had tried to suppress the tingling feeling in her abdomen that arose whenever she was close to Victòria, it persisted. She’d tried to blame it on anything, from the wine to loneliness to the Stockholm syndrome, but she knew very well that the most obvious solution to this riddle was the right one. She’d kept that knowledge well locked up as they dealt with the failed painting sale, a schizophrenic actor bringing Eduardo back to life and finally the funeral. After the surreal chaos of the last weeks, the day of the burial brought it home to Àngela that this was real, that she was in fact burying her father.

The whole day, she’d felt tense, nervous, still afraid something would go wrong, there were simply too many possibilities for catastrophe, something was bound to happen. But it didn’t. Her brother held on to his doubts, but couldn’t prove anything, the notary did his job, the inheritance went to herself and Victòria, and finally they all gathered in the garden for the service. Victòria, all dressed in black like the dramatic widow in mourning she was, seemed just as shaken up, hiding her face behind a veil and huge sunglasses. Her daughter was by her side, and future’s sharp tail of insecurity stung Àngela’s heart every time she looked at the charming, chubby woman.

Àngela was used to improvising, to making tough decisions, but this was a crossroad she was not ready to take. Could it be that she’d really fallen for Victòria? Could this be a new beginning for both of them, together? Would she dare to make a move? The Àngela from 20 years ago would have laughed at her hesitation, at her overthinking, but today’s Àngela had three kids to take care of and knew that one couldn’t always chase after the juiciest orange, the first impulse, however strong it might be.

Then the funeral happened. Àngela sat to Victòria’s right, not knowing if she felt worse for the fact that this was her father’s funeral, or the fact that she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off the widow. It started off bumpy, with a badly prepared priest who didn’t just mispronounce his name, but also painted him as a good, beloved person, it what was clearly a standard speech he hadn’t bothered to alter. After a few short sentences, he was done, and tried to pass the task on to Victòria.

“If anyone wants to say something, maybe his wife?”

“No, I can’t,” Victòria refused, “I’m too distressed. I can’t.”

“I can,” came the voice of Adela, and all heads turned as she stepped up and professed her grief about her late neighbor or soulmate in a surprisingly moving way. Of course, drama queen Victòria couldn’t leave it at that, and got up as well.

“I was feeling a bit shook, but I’m better now. As you all know, Eduardo was my husband. Many people wondered why he was with me. It’s true, he was an upright, intelligent man, and I, well, I did what I could, alright?”

Àngela smiled softly.

“But he wasn’t perfect either, because look at him now, he’s dead, as we’ll all be one day. Today, Eduardo has taught us   
that we are all imperfect. That is, we’re all equals.” She looked around at the guests, as she continued. “I also want to thank Eduardo…”

Carefully, Victòria took off her sunglasses, and directed her open glance at Àngela, who could feel her heartbeat accelerate.

“Because he left me a family that’s just… wonderful.”

As she said those last words, slowly and deliberately, she kept her gaze fixed on Àngela, whose mind started racing along with her heart. Then, thank god, Victòria looked up at the sky to thank Eduardo again, and left her time to catch a breath.

“Thank you, forever,” she repeated, as her eyes found Àngela’s once more. And as if that wasn’t enough, Adela started a song, urging everyone to hold hands. Victòria, unable to give her hand to that snake, returned to Àngela’s side, and with a smile, took her hand. Nando was right by her side, and her kids too, but goodness, Àngela couldn’t help but gaze at her adoringly.

Later, as the guests had gone and everything was returning to normal, they found each other again. Àngela had been looking for her all over the house, until she finally checked the pool, and there Victòria was, lounging in the garden swing.   
She was still wearing her black widow outfit, with the dangerously low cleavage that seemed to magically attract Àngela’s glance.

“Here you are,” she said softly, “Can I join you?”

“Sure, reina, take a seat.” 

“What a day, huh?”

“What a week.”

Dawn was beginning to fall, and the evening sky turned everything blue. A few tiny clouds reflected in the pool’s surface. Gently, the swing rocked them.

“But we made it. Together.”

Victòria smiled at her. “Together. That’s what families do, right?”

Àngela nodded. “Your speech was really beautiful. Thank you, too. For everything.”

“So what are your plans now? Ready to get the apartment back?”

Àngela cleared her throat. “Actually…”

Victòria gently took her hand. She was warm and soft, except for the cool, smooth metal of her rings. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

“I can’t quite wrap my head around it all yet. And there’s something else.”

“Oh?”

Àngela looked up into those dazzling brown eyes, and intertwined her fingers with Victòria’s.

“What you said earlier, about the emptiness in your heart…”

“That no one could fill it?”

Àngela nodded.

“Oh, that’s just stuff you say when your husband bit the dust. The emptiness was already there when he was alive.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow. “And someone could definitely fill it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Àngela felt the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “I know this is not an appropriate moment, the day of the funeral and all, but… I hope I wasn’t imagining that there’s a certain spark between us. I’ve grown to like you over these last crazy weeks, and I guess what I’m trying to say is-“

Victòria grinned. “You’re hitting on a poor widow before she’s even cleared the flowers. I admire your audacity, Àngels, and no, I definitely feel it, too.”

This time, Àngela didn’t bother to object to the nickname, but instead she took it in, and made it hers. She could see it, them, all this, and it made beautiful sense. Slowly, she leaned in, ready to back off at the first sign of discomfort, but Victòria was very comfortable, and met her halfway. It was a first kiss, gentle and careful, but it set off fireworks in Àngela’s heart. It was a small thing, a brush of soft lips, but it was enough to silence all her fears and doubts. When one door closes, a new one opens, and as Eduardo’s chapter had ended, their very own had started, and suddenly everything seemed possible.


End file.
